Beginnings
by Jaywalker
Summary: Cordelia comforts Angel.


Everything was done

Spoilers: Up to Season Two Finale. 

Disclaimer: Joss and David own all.

I know, I know, everyone and their mother have written a fic set post finale!! 

This begged to be written so here it is. Apologies if it seems derivative but I have read so many of these things that I'm not entirely sure where the reading ended and the idea began. This deals with C/A friendship post Willow's news in the finale. I think Cordelia would be shell-shocked by the news, torn between disbelief and her grief for Buffy, Angel and the scoobies, hence this fic: 

Please let me know what you think!

**Beginnings.**

Everything was done. 

She had deposited Fred in a room and watched the younger girl shuffle slowly to the window to gaze upon the starless night. She had discarded the shiny royal garments, removing them methodically and folding the tinkering metal as best she could. Moving quietly, she had rummaged in her makeshift room, unearthing clean clothes from the old wardrobe. She had dressed silently, her eyes gripped by a black and white picture hanging on the wall opposite. She had never noticed it before, the small smiling boy having escaped her attention on those other nights when she had changed here, slept here, her dreams filled with demons and angels. 

The small boy smiled brightly, his teeth gleaming in the half darkened room.

She had bent over the sink, short strands of hair slipping forward as she splashed water over her face. She had scrubbed her skin, rubbing the dead cells from her face until the new skin pinked in protest. 

She had hugged Willow, quickly and quietly, the small redhead crumpled and broken in her embrace. She had watched her leave, crooked in the arm of her shy smiling lover. Her lover with the gentle eyes that burned with strength as she guided Willow home. 

She had smiled at Gunn's low condolences and paused his awkward fumbling with a touch of her hand, squeezing his fingers, forgiving him for never having met and known and loved the slayer. She had watched Wesley make his pilgrimage to the garden, his figure mute and still among the dusky flowerbeds. He had stood there in his howling loneliness, his eyes fixed on the moon, a thousand interminable thoughts occupying him.

He had finally turned, his feet crunching over the graveled path as he left the garden behind. He paused for a half step in the doorway, his eyes lingering upon her, his gray gaze filling with blackened grief and hollow comforts. 

"Are you all right?" Her voice sounded distant and muffled. A stranger's voice.

"Cordelia," he murmured, moving closer. 

She stared at him with dread ridden fascination, her eyes absorbing him. Those drooped shoulders, the staggered step, the burdened body. Yet she found the truth in his face. In his haggard face, drawn and worn, Cordelia felt the truth.

Buffy's dead. 

The disbelief clutching her mind retreated under the blinding pain of that truth. 

Buffy was gone.

Blonde smiling Buffy was dead. 

Wesley neared her, his hand stretched out in comfort.

He looks so old. I'm always going to remember how Wesley looked so old today. 

"Wesley." Her voice cracked, her heart fractured,"Wesley."

"I know." His hand smoothed her own. "I don't know. I don't know how this happened. She was…" His expression grew pained. "This will break Giles. Buffy was a daughter to him."

Cordelia's face creased with sorrow. "Giles," she whispered, aching for her friend, for his misery. "All of them. Dawn. She's only a baby." She leaned forward, her head resting against the Englishman's chest. "This isn't fair Wesley. Buffy…"

Losing the will to speak, Cordelia closed her eyes, memories filling her head and quietly, she grieved for her friend. She finally gulped and pulled away, her eyes creeping fearfully toward the staircase. 

He had walked there, hours ago, stiff and straight. 

Without a word. 

"I have to go to him," she said softly, transfixed by the stairs. By the agony they would lead her to.

Above her, Wesley shook his head. "You can't Cordelia. Not now, he needs time."

"He has forever." Cordelia turned her eyes back to her friend, a sad smile on her lips. "I have to go to him, Wesley."

Wesley opened his mouth to disagree, gentle protests lost as he looked down at her. He hadn't the will to fight this one out. Instead, he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against her forehead. 

"Whatever you think is best."

With a small nod of gratitude, Cordelia slipped past him, drawn to another. 

********************************

The door creaked open, announcing her presence with a soft whine. Cordelia lingered in the doorway, faint surprise tingling through her. She had expected to find him lost in his habitual darkness, a solitary shadow swallowed by the blackness of the night. Instead she found an overwhelming brightness. The lamps were switched on, their glaring light flooding the room. His crumpled coat lay strewn across the floor, apparently abandoned mid-walk. Absorbing it all, Cordelia's eyes slowly drifted toward the bed where he sat motionless, his eyes locked on the L.A. skyline. 

His body gripped by grief. 

She stared at him, her feet glued to the floorboards beneath. 

There was nothing she could do. 

Memories flickered through her mind. Angel and Buffy together. His elusive smile gently bestowed upon the sparkling slayer. Her quiet glances promising love. The innocence of their love, the agony of their parting. 

Buffy was everything to him. She had burned him with her beauty, consumed him with her passion, filled him with his soul. 

And left him in his loss.

There was nothing she could do.

He was lost to the misery and pain and suffering and Cordelia's heart broke for him, Cordelia broke for him. 

"Angel." His name was strangled in her breath, a sob tightening her throat.

"She loved the light." Angel spoke in a calm monotone, never moving. "She didn't like to tell me but she loved the light."

Tears carved a slow path down her cheeks. "I know." 

Angel shook his head almost imperceptibly. "She was full of light."

"Angel."

He shifted abruptly, standing and pacing toward the window. "I left her to her death."

Cordelia shook her head, vehemence in her voice. "No."

"I did," he said with quiet conviction, "I left her, time and time again. I left her to die."

"You didn't Angel. She knew why you left, she understood. Buffy always understood…"

Cordelia paused, caught by his whisper, eaten by the pain of it. 

"Buffy."

She reached him in a breath, her arms curling around his waist, head resting against his back. 

"Angel, please," she shook against him. "I don't know how to help."

He turned, folding her in his arms, his voice calm. "It's all right."

"It's not," Cordelia lifted her head, her face crumpling at the sight of him. Desolation had swept into his soul, buried itself in his eyes, his face wild with grief. She couldn't hope to fix him. "I don't want you to be this way. I don't want Buffy gone. I want her to be alive and happy. I don't want you to hurt like this."

She felt childlike in her plea, agony in her heart as he looked down upon her, bleakness possessing him.

"Cordelia," Her name was a whisper. He bowed his head, the burden unbearable as he told her his quiet truths. "I need her Cordy." A slight smile twisted his lips, bittersweet. "I need her with me. I've always needed her with me."

"I know," Cordelia remembered through her tears. "She felt the same Angel, you know that."

Angel nodded."We have to get back there. She'd want me to make sure Dawn is all right. She'd want me to…" His head swayed back suddenly, eyes closing against the battering pain. "Oh God, Cordelia, how can I do this?" Desperation smothered him, filling him. "How can I let her go? How can I ever let her go?"

He leaned into her, his face breaking with sorrow, "How can I do this?"

Cordelia clutched him to her, her voice filled with tender promise. "You don't have to Angel. Not today. Today, we hold onto her."

He didn't speak but instead buried himself in her, finding quiet mercy in her embrace. She wound her arms around him tightly, keeping him safe as best she could, her tears smudging with his own.

Time folded around them, dawn creeping daylight closer as she held him, whispering low comforts all the while as he found in her arms, the beginning of his mourning. 

******************************************


End file.
